


Half Life

by MrsCalculation



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Not A Fix-It, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 19:43:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19933471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsCalculation/pseuds/MrsCalculation
Summary: #firstcrushOtabek doesn't know how to react.





	Half Life

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hashtags](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9251090) by [abrandnewheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abrandnewheart/pseuds/abrandnewheart). 



> The original fic left me so fucked up that I couldn't rest until I created this. I'm sorry.  
> ["Half Life" by Imogen Heap](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3bH-HXv8PUw)

**_#firstcrush_ **

Otabek sees the otherwise-captionless picture of himself, and his chest starts to hurt. Over the years, Otabek had gotten used to his chest throbbing whenever he saw Yuri, or whenever his name came up in conversation, or when he even thought of him. But seeing a photo of himself so simply on Yuri’s Instagram, plain and captionless and quietly tagged with his name, Otabek hurts in a new way, like when he first saw Yuri smile at Alexei in person but compounded one thousand times over.

He calls Yuuri.

“Otabek?” he says blearily into the line, and right, it’s a little after midnight in Japan.

“I’m sorry, I can call back tomorrow, I didn’t think about the time,” he rushes out, his English turning muddled in his panic.

“No, it’s okay,” Yuuri says, and Otabek hears him say something softly in Japanese away from the phone. There’s a rustling, and Otabek just breathes into the line until Yuuri says more strongly, “is everything okay?”

“I…” He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know if he had any sort of a plan when he called, other than thinking that Yuuri needed to _know_ , that he could help somehow.

“Beka?” he sounds unsure, whether of the name or the circumstance, Otabek can’t tell.

“Instagram,” he gets out, because he can’t even form words in Kazakh or Russian to describe how he feels.

“Okay?” Yuuri says, then, “hold on,” and there’s the slightest sound of shuffling and tapping. “ _Oh_.”

“What do I do?” Otabek chokes out, helpless and already desperate.

Yuuri is silent for too long, until, “deep breath.”

“Nn?”

“Take a deep breath, then another. I can hear you starting to panic. You’re okay.”

Otabek breathes with Yuuri until Yuuri is satisfied. “Drink some water, then we’ll talk,” he says firmly.

Otabek does.

“What do I do?” Otabek whispers into the silence of his apartment. It’s stronger than before, but he’s afraid to speak any louder.

“Do you want to talk to him?”

“Nnnn.”

“Otabek.”

“I…I haven’t talked to him in over a week,” he says. Yuri had let their Snapchat streak die, and Otabek hadn’t bothered trying to start a new one. It was usually pictures of Alexei anyway. He can’t even bring himself to be bitter about it.

“Then call him,” Yuuri says, as if it’s that simple.

“I can’t do that,” Otabek says, physically reeling backwards. “He hasn’t reached out for a week, I don’t think he’s even noticed.”

Yuuri exhales slightly louder than normal into the line. “This doesn’t count as reaching out?”

Otabek’s silence answers him.

“Beka,” Yuuri says, sounding truly sympathetic and hurt on his behalf, “you have to talk to him. You don’t have to tell him if you don’t want to. But if you do…well, I can’t think of a better chance.”

Otabek swallows heavily. “What if he hates me?” His voice is tiny.

“He could never,” Yuuri says with understated confidence. “Call him. Tomorrow. Tonight, get some sleep. Tomorrow, call him.”

Otabek wraps tighter into himself, but says, “okay.”

“You can call me as soon as you’re done, if you need,” Yuuri says, “but I’ll know if you don’t do it.”

“Okay.”

“Get some sleep, Otabek.” He sounds like he’s smiling.

“Thank you,” Otabek says.

“Anytime,” Yuuri says. Otabek believes him.

Otabek can’t help but look at the post again before he tries to sleep. The comments have been turned off.

He wakes up in the morning with a few texts waiting for him.

_Davai!_ Yuuri has sent. Cute, if painful.

_Are you ignoring me?_ From Yuri, around 0300 Almaty time. Nearly four hours ago. It’s still too early in Russia for Otabek to call.

He wastes time by making playlists. They become increasingly more angsty as he goes.

He stops when he puts a Taylor Swift song immediately after one by Adele.

_I’m going to call soon, if you’re available,_ he sends to Yuri after a few hours.

His phone rings almost immediately. He should have expected as much.

“Are you mad at me?” Yuri demands as soon as the line connects.

“No,” Otabek has the chance to say before Yuri is off again.

“Is it because of the snapstreak? I’m sorry, I was flying most of the day and didn’t realize—”

“It’s not that,” Otabek cuts in because he can’t stand to hear it.

“Then what is it? It’s something, don’t lie.”

He’s silent for just a beat too long.

“ _Otabek_ ,” Yuri says, jarring Otabek painfully into the present.

“What was that picture about?” Otabek rushes out before he can find an excuse to stop himself.

“What? I know it’s not about that, Beka, I posted that after.”

“Why did you post it at all?”

Yuri is quiet for a second. “Are you upset? I can take it down, I was just doing a string of my firsts, and I…” he trails off, seeming unsure.

“No, you don’t have to,” Otabek says. He pulls his phone from his ear and puts Yuri on speaker to look through his Instagram. There are pictures of medals, of Potya as a kitten, of an early sponsorship Yuri got.

“Beka?” Yuri asks, and even unsure and filtered through the phone from thousands of kilometers away, Yuri’s presence takes over the apartment. Otabek takes it off speaker.

“Is this true?” Otabek asks, and compared to Yuri, he sounds lifeless and unimportant.

“Yeah?” Yuri says slowly. “I thought you knew…I’m sorry, I’ll take it down now, I didn’t realize how uncomfortable it would make you, please don’t stay mad at me, okay? I really thought you knew, I’m sorry, it was a long time ago.” He sounds like he’s starting to panic.

“Yura,” Otabek says. “Yurochka.” It’s heavy on his tongue, the unfamiliarity of it weighing him down. Yuri doesn’t answer.

“Yurochka,” Otabek tries again, and it comes out better this time. “I love you.”

There’s the faintest sound of an inhale, but otherwise the line stays silent.

“I’ve loved you for years,” he stumbles over, too drunk on the confession to stop. “I am so happy you’ve gotten everything you’ve ever wanted and deserved, I am so proud of you, and I don’t want to change anything you have, but I love you so much. It hurts. It’s hurt for years, even before…before. I can’t lie about it anymore. I don’t want to hide it. I’m sorry.”

After what feels like an eternity, Yuri speaks. “I…” he starts with, hoarse and crackling. “I wish I had known sooner,” he says, and Otabek has never heard him sound so tiny. “I’m sorry,” he says, then hangs up.

Otabek never calls him back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, call me out on any formatting/grammar/continuity errors, and feedback is appreciated!
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://mrscalculation.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter]() @MrsCalculation


End file.
